


A Good Waltz

by RositaLG



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Extended Scene, F/M, Fluff, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:38:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6441817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RositaLG/pseuds/RositaLG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's POV during the final scene of 3x6: "Death at the Grand"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Waltz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunsetdreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetdreamer/gifts).



> I never, ever write in present tense. But my braintwin, sunsetdreamer, does all the time. I think our halves of the brain got swapped for the night while I wrote this drabble, so I'm dedicating this one to her because it's probably meant to be hers.

“Care for a dance, Miss Fisher?”

He doesn’t know why it has never dawned on him before this case, but Jack has always just assumed that Phryne Fisher leads a charmed and fantastical kind of life. She treats herself to every indulgence and whim that crosses her path. She has never denied herself anything, including men. Certainly, she’s had her fair share of heartache and sorrows, but on the whole, she is the closest thing to the Queen of Sheba Melbourne has ever produced. 

“Are you sure you want to risk it?” She looks him up and down, as if she knows something he doesn’t. But Jack knows something now that he didn’t at the start of this case: she has never been in love. 

He'd stood on this very dance floor earlier, frozen with his epiphany at her confession that she didn’t believe in love at first sight, and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the woman. He'd openly stared as his questions had came fast and swift. How could a woman, who has access to everything and everyone, never know what it means to be in love? What sort of life was she leading? Hours had slipped into days and the questions were still haunting him. 

So when she questions his certainty now, his response is immediate.

“What’s the risk?” 

Her inexperience in the matter gives him boundless confidence as he walks out onto the dance floor. He knows full well that he has turned her head from time to time in their work together (reciting Shakespeare, kissing her first, popping champagne in her boudoir late at night) and he knows that this is an opportunity to do so again. There are very few things in the world that he can give her that she can't get for herself, but a good waltz, with someone who loves her, is  something he can give. 

“Well, I have waltzed with the best: French presidents, English princes, American film stars.” Jack lets her prattle on, totally unfazed by her list, as her wrap gets tossed to the side of the room. It might as well be the red rag she’s waving at him as it flutters unnoticed to the floor. “The waltz is a very serious dance.” She adds, trying to bait him again. But Jack knows what it means to hold the person you love tightly and float away together on a cloud of air. And with that knowledge, her bravado seems so fragile. He sees through what used to terrify him (her past experiences, her money, her independence) to the vulnerable woman underneath, and his universe shifts. 

She needs him. 

“And I’m a serious man.” He counters, opening a door for her to let him in. 

“My mother lost all reason when she was waltzed.” He can see her beginning to waver, so he goes in for the kill. 

“Well, if she hadn’t,” he begins, taking his time as his hands play with her wrist, and then her hand, and then her fingers, “this would be a world without a certain Phryne Fisher in it.” He firmly guides her into position and she can’t help but step forward as his hand presses against the small of her back. “And what kind of world would that be?” He asks, giving her only a second to ponder his statement before taking the first step. 

And they’re off. 


End file.
